


Atlas

by BookishSimon



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (yet), Angst, Exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, No Incest, No Romance, Nobody is Dead, Not Beta Read, Other, Parental Abuse, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sleep Deprivation, Whump, i hate working out but not as much as luther does :/, just siblings who care about each other in a way that's not illegal, tua - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:27:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishSimon/pseuds/BookishSimon
Summary: I really hope we get to see the training routine of the 6 siblings who aren't Klaus! Since we haven't yet, here's my take on how Luther's training might have gone.(Set pre-everything, they're all just kids and Ben's not really well but he's definitely alive.)





	Atlas

**Author's Note:**

> (Specific trigger warnings in the end notes.)

“Don’t think about coming inside again until you’ve finished here.”

Easier said than done, dickhead.

“Yes, sir.” Luther looked at the marked trees in front of him and back at the academy. Reginald’s back disappeared through the trees. Luther didn’t doubt for a second that he meant what he’d said. Either he did his job, or he slept outside in the woods.  
Pogo had marked some of the trees around him with red X’s. The paint looked slightly wet. He decided to ignore it and get started. His uniform was not important right now. His arms fitted nicely around the bark of the tree. He bent his knees and pulled as hard as he could. After a few attempts, the tree’s roots broke free from the earth with a loud tearing sound. Luther grunted and heaved the tree up on his shoulders. It pressed down on him, pushing his feet deeper down into the damp forest ground. Step by step, he began to walk back to the academy. An axe would be waiting for him there. Luther didn’t know what Reginald did with all of the wood he produced. He distracted himself by coming up with theories. He sold it to a company that made wooden instruments. He burned it all and used the ashes as fertilizer. He made wood sculptures of his favorite historical figures and put them on a secret altar in his room. The possibilities were endless.

After about ten minutes, his mind ran dry. The feeling of the rough wood chafing against his shoulder pushed his imagination to the back of his mind. He already knew that he would get at least one splinter before he finished his training today. He just hoped Reginald would give him permission to clean the wounds before it got infected. If the splinters got deep enough before he managed to get back inside the academy, getting it out would be hell. He could already feel the needle digging into his flesh, tearing it apart and opening it up for the tweezers.

The wood hit the ground with a dull thud. He’d already dragged fifteen trees to the chopping block. He was almost halfway. Luther squeezed his eyes shut and tried to suppress the waves of nausea that were crashing into him. His breaths were shallow. He pinched his arm in a slow rhythm and tried to sync up his breath with the pain. It helped, a little. He got up again. Blood rushed to his head and the outlines of the trees around him blurred. Luther ignored it as well as he could and started dragging the tree out of the woods again.

At first he assumed it was just another bite from a bug who had nothing better to do than torment humans. But the feeling was too deep for that, too invasive. He pulled up his sleeve and confirmed what he’d already suspected. A sizable piece of bark had broken off and had now made itself at home in Luther’s arm. He sighed. If he picked the tree up again, the splinter would definitely be pushed in deeper. If he didn’t, however, he would have to sleep on the forest floor in these clothes and that would give him a cold at best and pneumonia at worst. He clenched his teeth and started dragging the tree towards his end goal. Once he got there, he let it drop to the ground. Luther lied down and pressed his back against the ground. He groaned. The pain was immense, but healing at the same time. He felt a little better when he sat back up again. He shifted uncomfortably and looked at the trees stacked up behind him. The stack was already high enough to build a small log cabin with, but he wasn’t done yet. Reginald wouldn’t let him inside yet. The grass was cold and wet. His muscles would cool down fast if he didn’t get up right now. 

He tried. He really did. But he only made it another few steps before lying down in the grass and closing his eyes. He knew he was going to make life difficult for Grace, but he just couldn’t go on anymore. Diego could become number one. Luther didn’t care anymore. Not right now. Not when every single fiber in his body was begging him to stop and just let the darkness wash over him.

He woke up to someone calling his name. Luther shot upright and stumbled backwards. The muscles in his shoulders and legs lit the neurons in his brain up with pain. He groaned and sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’ll continue. I’ll get back right now. It’s fine. Sorry. So-“

“Jesus, dude. Calm down.”

He looked up and allowed his eyes to focus. It wasn’t Reginald, ready to give him a speech and drag him towards the trees again. It was Ben. He was standing against a background of green and blue. The sun was almost halfway through its journey in the sky. Luther pushed himself up on his elbows and frowned.

“You can’t be here. Go back inside. If he-”

“Reginald’s in a meeting with the PR team. He’s not here.” Ben kneeled next to Luther and put him arm around him. He tried to haul him onto his feet, but he dropped him again with a grunt. It hurt, but the relief of Reginald being gone and Ben being here with him made the pain feel insignificant. 

“All right, Luther. You’re gonna have to get up on your own. I don’t eat bricks for breakfast.”

Luther shrugged and leaned back against the logs he’d collected yesterday. 

“I can’t.”

“…I’ll get Grace.”

“That’s not the point.” He shook his head and looked back at the trees. “I’m not done yet.”

“You looked very done from what I could see. No offense, but you look like shit. You need to stop before you fuck up your bones even more,” Ben said, but there was an undertone to his voice that told Luther he understood. He didn’t meet Luther’s eyes. Luther couldn’t face Reginald again before he’d finished his work and they both knew it.

“Seriously though, why are you here?” Luther asked, half out of genuine curiosity and half to prolong his rest.

Ben shrugged, almost apologetically. “Saw you passed out on the grass. Thought you could use a little help.”

Luther smiled. He didn’t say anything. His sleep-deprived mind was already getting overemotional. He used one of the logs to stand. The fabric of his sleeve grazed over the wound on his arm. He must’ve made some kind of expression, because Ben’s frown deepened. He reached for his arm, but Luther pushed his hand away. He tried to plaster a smile onto his face. He didn’t know how it looked, but it felt faker than Klaus’ designer clothes. Ben raised his eyebrows, then sighed.

“All right. Enough. Go inside. Go to Grace. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Ben…” Luther hesitated. He knew Ben could do it. His tentacles were stronger than anything that existed in this dimension, including him. But he also knew that using them was torture for Ben. He’d seen him after missions, he’d seen how he seemed to shrink, creating a wall of paper and words to separate himself from the world until he’d recovered enough. Only to be dragged out again and again by the monster that had the nerve to call himself their father. He didn’t want to do that to Ben. He shook his head and dragged himself towards the trees. 

“Go back to your room before dad finds you helping me.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Thank you, though. Like, seriously. Thank you.”

Ben leaned back and looked at him. Luther couldn’t read his expression. They looked at each other until Ben turned around and headed back towards the academy. Luther let his breath escape from his lungs. He pulled his sleeve up again when he’d disappeared behind the trees. He didn’t want anyone else to see the way his skin had gone taut and red around the wound. The skin right around the splinter was hot and slightly sticky, even though he’d slept on wet, cold grass. He closed his eyes for a second and allowed the painful ball of emotion that had been sitting in his throat for hours now explode. His fist hit a tree. It shook, but didn’t break. Unlike me, Luther thought. Fuck.  
His eyes scanned the trees for another red cross. There was one to his left, but a blue flash blinded him before he could reach it. He frowned and blinked a couple of times.

“Five?”

“No. Santa Claus.”

He felt a hand grip his arm. It pulled a little at the skin around his wound, but before he could do anything about it he was standing in the nursery. His stomach did a somersault and he almost fell over. Grace was there to catch him. She lowered him into a chair and smiled at him. Before Luther could process what had just happened, there was another blue flash. Five was gone again. Luther opened his mouth and tried to stand up, panic spreading through his chest. Grace put a hand against his chest and gently pushed him down again. 

“Just relax, honey. I’ll patch you up in no time.”

He wished he could. He really did. “I can’t. I’ll be back in a few hours. Not now.”

He wanted to say more, but a loud thud outside the academy caught his attention. His hands gripped the chair. He looked at the window just in time to see another tree fly over the trees and land near the stack he’d made. Ben. Luther wanted to tell him to stop, but he was so tired. He was so tired and Grace was right here. Against his will, he felt his muscles relax in the chair. Grace’s hand brushed against his forehead. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He didn’t know who it was for. For Ben, for Grace, for Five…it didn’t matter. He would make it up to them. All of them. Later. Now it was time to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> TWs: splinters + description of an infected wounds + over-exhaustion + parental abuse
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this! This is not beta read at all so if you want to take the time out of your day to leave me some constructive criticism that would be lovely. Have a nice day!


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